


Promises Only Made

by deliciousshame



Series: asscreedkinkmeme [8]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Community: asscreedkinkmeme, Exhibitionism, M/M, Mind Control, Multi, Parent/Child Incest, Sexual Content, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, The Tyranny of King Washington, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2017-12-03 18:23:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliciousshame/pseuds/deliciousshame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They thought they could oppose him. They thought that by uniting against him, he wouldn't stand a chance. </p><p>They thought wrong. They lost, badly. They weren't prepared for the Apple. </p><p>It doesn't matter. Everything is better for it. Of this, Connor is certain. Surely no one is more suited to ruling the country than his master.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SittingRoundTheSamovar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SittingRoundTheSamovar/gifts).



> Written in response to this [prompt](http://asscreedkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1795.html?thread=9898755#cmt9898755) on the kink meme, itself inspired by this very NSFW [fanart](http://www.y-gallery.net/view/923393) (you need an account to see it).
> 
> Should eventually be a series of vignettes set in the same universe. Right now, it's just porn.
> 
> [Chinese translation here](http://tieba.baidu.com/p/2199681835) by [rogerlock](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rogerlock/)

Connor is jealous.

Once again, the king has chosen his father over him. He’s been told Haytham has more experience, but how is he going to get better if he can’t practice? He’s reduced to a spectator as Haytham pleases the king with his mouth, taking the whole of him inside. Connor can’t do this yet, but it’s only a question of time. He has the will. 

He might as well admire his father’s technique. Haytham knows how to do this. He doesn’t gag, not even as King Washington tangles his hand in his hair and forces himself deeper into his throat. In fact, he seems to enjoy the aggression. Connor is pretty sure he would plead for more if his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied. Things being the way they are, he can only hear muffled moans. 

The sounds he makes are appealing, even to Connor. He’s not unaffected by the sight, far from it. Haytham, flushed and on his knees, is quite fetching, but he pales in comparison to their king, still so in control even as his former enemy’s tongue and lips slide over his flesh. Connor wraps a hand around his growing erection. At first, he was afraid that taking such actions without permission would displease their king, but his worries were baseless. King Washington told him in no uncertain terms that, should he feel the need to, he could pleasure himself whenever he wanted to. Another proof of the kindness of their rightful master, as if Connor needed one. 

Sometimes he wonders how they could have been so misguided, he, his father and the others, as to think they could oppose the king. Their rebellion had been doomed from the start. Luckily for them, King Washington had been merciful enough to keep them alive. He showed them the errors of their ways and led them to this: servitude as penance for their treason. Such sweet punishment, Connor had never known. 

He lets out a deep moan, the way he knows their master likes. His hand goes faster over his skin, trying to reach orgasm together with the king. He watches Haytham’s head bob until King Washington keeps him in place with a firm grip and spills. Haytham swallows dutifully. Connor is getting desperate. He can’t quite reach the edge. 

The king takes hold of his face and guide his eyes to his. In them, Connor can see the love King Washington feels for them, as well as something else, something he can’t define. It’s more than enough. Screaming their master’s name, he comes.

As he catches his breath, he soaks up the praise and caresses he’s given. He loves being told how well he did, how beautiful and obedient he is. 

Haytham is still standing next to him. _He_ didn’t get the right to take care of himself, and is probably painfully aroused by now. Connor throws a questioning glance to the king. King Washington’s answering nod is all Connor needs: if this is what he wants, Connor will makes sure his father isn’t ignored. 

They kiss, their lips and tongues sliding slowly against each others. The point isn’t their personal enjoyment; they have to make it look good for their master. After all, they wouldn’t be here if not for him. They have to demonstrate their gratitude for this second chance they were given.

Connor’s hand quickly finds his father’s hardness, straining against the fabric of his breeches. He rubs it through the fabric, feels it reacting to his touch. Haytham lets out little groans and moans. Connor knows they’re more for the king’s benefit than caused by real need, and he can appreciate it. 

He feels King Washington’s gaze tracking their actions. The weight of it pushes him forward, makes him untie the obstructing breeches and close his right hand around his father’s cock. He kisses him again as he starts stroking lazily, forcing pleas from Haytham’s lips as soon as he leaves them. As this is not about him, but about their master, Connor stays unmoved and continue with his slow rhythm, making sure Haytham won’t be pushed over the edge too soon. 

He’s so focused on this task that he doesn’t notice the king moving to join them until he feels hands spreading his knees apart. King Washington is behind him, roughly pushing two barely oiled fingers inside of him. That doesn’t matter; Connor can take it. He does everything he can not to let the new sensations mess with the rhythm he imposed to Haytham. The king adds another finger, and Connor has to use his left hand to steady himself on his father’s shoulder if he wants to maintain his position on his knees. His breathing is harsh. Even if he just came, he knows he’ll be hard again in a few minutes. The king loves to use the fact that he’s much younger than Haytham and he, and his body, much easier to entice, against him. King Washington’s other hand is suddenly around him, and that’s all it takes to make him completely hard. His strokes are hard and fast, the goal being to make Connor shatter as quickly as possible, another way to display his dominance over them.

He feels heat and wetness on his hand and the skin of his belly. Haytham came. Connor can now use his right hand to hold himself upright. Haytham’s arms wrap themselves around his waist, giving him support and pushing him against his stronger frame. The hand on him becomes even rougher, almost to the point of discomfort. There’s a sharp pain coming from his shoulder; King Washington has bitten him. He knows he’s speaking, but he has no idea what he’s saying. Finally, he feels another finger trying to worm its way inside of him, and he’s overcome by the pain and pleasure. 

Connor crumbles in his father’s arms, exhausted. He smiles tiredly as his master kisses the back of his neck and tells him how proud of him he is for doing so well.

The king rises and leaves to clean himself up. He won’t be back soon. That’s fine, it will give Connor time to recover. Ruling a kingdom is a very time-consuming occupation. Connor is just happy he can help him to do it in his own way. He’ll stay here, in front of the throne, ready for him when he comes back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George contemplates the situation.

George believes he has accomplished great things, left a legacy for future generations. His kingdom is prospering under his leadership. The British emissaries have recognised his claim. He made sure they would be most convincing while reporting the actual state of affairs. They know they can’t defeat his army, that military resistance would be futile. He’s looking forward to open the political and mercantile negotiations with the Motherland. He knows he has the upper hand. Wealthy and powerful as the Kingdom of Great Britain might be, it doesn’t have much that he wants. The New World has enough resources and potential to be independent. As for George himself, he already has almost everything that he wants within his hands’ reach. Literally. 

He lets his hand card through Connor’s hair. The young man not only allows it, he sighs contently and leans into the touch. The Apple really does offer miracles to those who can master it. Gone is the furious Assassin, willing to sacrifice everything to avenge his mother. That man resisted, and he did so much longer than an average person. All the Assassins did, and so did those who called themselves the Templars, but they all broke in the end. He has proof of it before his eyes.

Deciding their fate had been difficult, but rewarding. Trusted allies were pleased by their gifts, but only the wiser ones realised the threat it really was. They now know they would fall just as easily if they decided to betray him. In both cases, George has gotten more support from them. 

Others were put to work. Some were reassured when they saw that even his long-time opponent, Charles Lee, had rallied to his just cause and swore loyalty to the rightful king. Those still unconvinced swiftly disappeared, for reasons unknown. 

While all his enemies proved useful, he has kept the best of them for himself. He deserves it. He’s the one who successfully defeated them, who brought them to their knees and made sure they stayed that way. Besides, it’s not like they mind now. They’re perfectly satisfied with their situation. 

It took time he did not have while he tried to solidify his hold on what was his, effort and perseverance and patience beyond reason. They were stubborn, both of them being men of principles with a strong sense of self. Months of pain and pleasure were necessary before the beginning of doubt was birthed in their mind, but once that particular breach was established, George knew he had won. 

And what wonderful prizes he got. 

Haytham broke first. George remembers the day he went to him and found his mind free of any form of resistance. Gone were the fury at the death of the only woman he had loved, the persistent will to kill him as slowly as possible, and the worry for allies he would have denied feeling if asked. Just complete and utter surrender. He’d given up. It had been more than time. George had finally been able to remake him into the wonderful being he is now. 

Things had been easier after that. He could give his full attention to Connor. The boy was devastated by what had happened to his genitor, which George thought was quite an overreaction. Haytham was now happier than he’d ever been, free of all obligations but those tying him to the king. Connor’s spirits broken, it took but a few days for the Apple to overwhelm him. 

Both Connor and Haytham now grasp how deluded they had been when they created an alliance whose sole goal had been removing him. They recognise that was they did was unforgivable, but they’ll spend their life trying to amend, as they should. Ideas of leaving him or saving their allies are foreign to them. They’re far more preoccupied with pleasing him. 

As much as he’d like to stay here and enjoy his conquests, he has duties to attend to. They’ll be disappointed, but they’ll understand. He’ll let them entertain each others.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Templars and Assassins unite, they can't possibly fail.

At the beginning, they had no idea what had happened. Those who were close to General Washington and somehow managed to get away from him almost unscarred claimed he became withdrawn and troubled for no reason they could discern. They were concerned, but they couldn’t do anything. 

They soon missed his moody state when he turned manic. 

_________________

"It’s the Apple. It can be nothing else." A lengthy correspondence with Reginald confirmed that only one of the precursors’ artifacts could be the source of Washington’s lunacy and powers. It took hours to make the other Templars believe in this particular hypothesis, but they can’t deny it anymore, not when each day passing brings more destruction that they always fail to stop. 

It hurts his pride, but the Order can’t manage this by itself. They need support. If Charles doesn’t like it, well, he’ll have to hold his temper for a while. 

If he can convince his obstinate son to agree with him. 

"You bring no proof."

"Why does it matter? Washington must be stopped. You tried, and failed so miserably it’s a wonder you were able to escape unscathed." So did he, to be honest, but Connor doesn’t need to know that. "Here I am, graciously offering you a second chance, one with much better odds, and you’d refuse? To what end? Shall you wait until he reaches your precious homestead, or until he burns your village to the ground?"

Obstinate he may be, but his son is like an open book. His weaknesses are exposed for the world to use, and the circumstances don’t allow for politeness. He folds, just like Haytham knew he would. 

Finally, they can move against Washington. The Order and The Brotherhood have outlived wars, famines, epidemics and schisms of all sorts. They have stood against everything, including each others. United, the idea that something, or someone, could oppose them is risible. 

With this army, he’ll lead such an assault the general won’t stand a chance. 

_________________

"We have to retreat, now!"

Normally, he’d take offense at one of his son’s so-called recruits trying to order him around, but even he has to admit any further efforts are wasted. How Washington found out they were planning to take him down, he probably will never know. Their intelligence said that Washington would be vulnerable, separated from most of his army and supporters.

That none of them detected the now obvious trap will be a shame they’ll all take to their grave, which they might all go to soon enough if they get caught. He knows Hickey took a rather severe hit. He lost sight of Charles at the beginning of the struggle. He has no idea where are the other Templars. All he can see are the Assassins, who he accompanied because, ironically, his skill sets are better matched to theirs. They did pretty well for people taught by his son, he guesses. Only one of them, the priest, has a wounded arm, nothing incapacitating. 

If only he couldn’t see Zenger happily butchering someone who could be William, he could almost fool himself into thinking they can regroup and launch another attack. He’s not that kind of man. The Apple’s hold is too strong. It took over a trained Assassin in a few minutes. He believes he would endure much longer, but he can’t risk it, and who knows what would happen to the Assassins surrounding him, they having already been shocked by their teammate’s fate. Even if he is their better in all things, he doesn’t want to take them on here and now. 

If only they can disappear without attracting Washington’s attention, they might be able to evade the Apple. 

At least he has the satisfaction of being right about Washington’s means. This close, he can see it shining its unearthly glow as the general lets himself be possessed by it. Haytham never liked the man, but he didn’t wish him to be corrupted that way. If there is something left of the general the Templars wanted to dislodge, he can’t tell. The man is front of him might be perverted beyond all recognition, or he might still be mostly in control, but Haytham doesn’t want to find out.

They eyes meet. He, usually so eloquent, can’t find the words to describe everything that crosses Washington’s eyes. He only knows he has to leave, as fast as possible, before he’s caught.

Too late. He can’t move. He can feel the Apple trying to take over his mind, like cold tendrils entwining in his thoughts.

Sudden pain at the back of his neck. Someone got him while he couldn’t defend himself. He can already feel reality slipping away. Let’s see Washington try to take over his unconscious mind. 

All he can hope for is a quick death.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day of the rest of Connor's life.

A room this big shouldn't be this empty.

Connor understand that Washin- the king deserves to house his throne in a room worthy of his magnificence, but he feels that said room would be better used for official meetings and royal proclamations, not to host his enem- prizes. From what he was told, Haytham and he are to stay here, at Wash- King Washington's disposal. He wants them available, for him and only him, at all times.

What he wants them available for is very clear. Connor wouldn't dream of disobeying his master, but he can't say he's comfortable with the idea. He's inexperienced in such matters, and Haytham, in addition to being despicable, is his own father. 

He guesses even the kindest and wisest of masters can't afford to give pleasant punishment. It wouldn't be penance in that case.

He's interrupted in his reflections by the gener- the king, who summons him to his side.

It is the first time he sees his father since he finally accepted the truth. While they were... re-educated, they were kept apart. They only met once during that period: when the king brought Haytham to him to demonstrate the extent of his might and... mercifulness.

Now, who would believe his reactions at that? Even he can't comprehend his horror, disgust and despair. He only knows that he was wrong about everything, and that tonight is but one step in the right direction if he wants to make amends.

Without being asked, he kneels in front of the throne, beside Haytham. He knows from the heat kindling in the king's gaze that he made the right choice.

Connor can't say how long they all stayed that way, the king's intent stare almost like a lover's touch as Haytham and he hold position.

The silence breaks when the king motions for Connor to join him. Tension the wait had mostly taken care of comes rushing back to him as he readies himself for what he knows is coming. It's nothing more than he deserves, and more importantly, it will please his master.

Just because the throne is dwarfed by the vastness of the room doesn't mean it's small. From up close, it is almost as imposing as the man sitting on it.

Connor settles on his ruler's lap as best as he can, straddling him, knees caught between King Washington's powerful thighs and the arms of the throne. The position is almost unsettlingly intimate to him, who mostly shied away from human contact, but this too fades when a hand tilts his chin up and leads him to his first kiss. Instantly, a feeling of rightness overwhelms him. This is what he's for. Without thinking, he opens his lips to let his partn- his master takes everything he wants from him.

The hand shifts to the back of his head, caressing the nape tenderly, soothing him, as he's coerced, oh so gently, into more kisses, more daring touches. He shivers but does not flinch when the shirt he's wearing is opened and removed, when the king's hands discover more of him than anyone else as they travel across his chest. A surprised moan is teased out of him by the clever hands that found his nipples. He blushes and hides his face in the crook of the king's neck, startled at such a sound coming out of him. The chuckles he can hear close to his ear don't help to alleviate the inadequacy and shame he's feeling. Neither does the knowledge that Haytham is watching, a silent but unforgettable presence at his back. Still, one does what one must do.

Filled with renewed resolve, he dares to lay a hand on the king's erection. The king hisses but pushes his hand away after a few seconds. Before Connor can worry about what he did wrong, he's being thoroughly kissed and the touches that were teasing but a few moments ago turn frenzied. 

The flimsy fabric of the clothes he was given rips easily when the king pulls at it, but Connor still has to rise to remove the shambles of his pants. He's never felt as exposed as he does now, naked and captive with his father at his back and his ruler staring at him, stroking himself to the sight of him.

He climbs back on the throne and tries to relax when a slick finger immediately finds his way inside of him. It hurts, it's strange and unsettling, but it's expected. Connor just takes deep breathes, bites his lips and waits until the pain passes. 

King Washington's other hand is on him, apparently trying to bring him to full hardness. The pleasure helps to release the tension he feels in each muscle of his body, allowing entry for another finger without much pain. He gives out small whimpers that the king seems to enjoy and tries to lean into his touch. By now, it's almost enjoyable.

The third finger is too much. He can taste the blood from the cut on his lip where he bit himself, trying to hold back the scream. 

Almost as fast as the pain overcame him, the fingers reach _something_. This time, he can't contain the cry. He notices the king's triumphant glance before the fingers focus on that spot, quickly rendering him incoherent.

When he's loose-limbed and ready for what will come, the king asks more of him. It'll be hard, but he can do it. He repositions himself to facilitate the penetration, and, with support from guiding hands, impales himself on his master's erection.

Even if he thought he was prepared for it, it still hurts unlike anything he has known before. He wants to move, to get it over with, but the king holds him steady, forcing him to take time to adjust to that new reality.

His breath slows down as the pain diminishes. After a while, he's freed to start a rhythm. He begins slowly, using all his practised strength to hold said rhythm, taking note of what makes the king shudders or moans.

A particular thrust jostles him and reaches his prostate. He grabs King Washington's shoulders and keens softly: once again, his reactions don’t go unremarked. He's ordered to keep that angle and quicken the rhythm. He obeys, even if the order itself makes obedience much more complicated. His thighs burn with the effort of riding his master as he wishes it. Connor does what he can to ignore this and the ecstasy that every brush _there_ creates. He uses the arms, cold and solid under his fingers, to get leverage.

The digits still cradling his now fully hard erection speed up, making him falter, and then disappear. Connor can't help but whine at the lost. As good as the king feels as he fills him, he doesn't think he'll attain orgasm without more direct stimulation. He has realised by now that his owner delights in seeing him loving what is being done to him, and so doesn't think that he will be denied a heartfelt request. He starts begging for the hand back; his demand is swiftly answered, with even more vigour than before. It's doesn't take long for him to come all over his king's hand, shouting his name.

He hasn't fulfilled his duties and he knows it. Keeping up the pace when every move causes him to whimper and trash because of overstimulation is quite the task, but he will be found worthy. He endures.

When he hears a growl of what he thinks is his name and he feels the telltale heat burst inside of him, he collapse on the king's lap. He rests his brow against the cool material of the throne, right beside King Washington's head, and let praises and endearments fly over his head, secure in his knowledge that he did all he could have done and did not disappoint. He doesn't even mind his father's presence anymore.

He does fight his lethargy to fulfill one more task: cleaning the king's soiled fingers, stained from his orgasm.

All things considered, this wasn't so terrible. Connor thinks he might grow to like serving his king in such a way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted two kink meme fills with an earlier publication date a few weeks ago. Check it out if you missed them and you're still interested after reading _that_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Charles thinks he should be dealing with more important things than foreign policy.

Charles still doesn’t know why George put him anywhere near negotiation. As much as it pains him to admit it, he just doesn’t have the patience needed to deal with such matters. He always ends up storming out of meetings, servants running of his way, leaving behind disgruntled politicians and unsigned accords. 

They knew from the start that creating their own country wouldn’t be solely a military process, but now, they have allies so much more suited to politics than Charles ever was. Once George got a firm grip on power, people surged from all directions wanting to rejoin their righteous cause. Charles’ main theory is that the king doesn’t give trust those newcomers with these tasks yet. They came when the fight was already won. They’re not by George’s side from the beginning, not like him, Johnson or Pitcairn. 

Still, George should just let him take care of their army. He should be the one handling such matters as foreign dignitaries, but Charles understands that even great men have to delegate. George can’t be there to guide every soul down the right path at all times. He might be the king, but he’s still but a man. He has to balance his duties with his needs, has to take some time for himself. So, when he can’t be found, most know not to look for him further, because chances are he might be in the throne room. 

Thinking about it makes him shiver. Exceptional people often have their eccentricities and should be forgiven for them, but even considering who George is, the fact that he decided to use that room for keeping… _them_ there still makes him uncomfortable. He knows what happens in there, who close to the king doesn’t, but no one ever comments. They’re not that stupid. If the king wants to keep the Assassin and Ma- someone else, he doesn’t believe there is some at court cognizant of his identity, who’s going to oppose him regarding something so trivial? It is common knowledge that both of them are worse than harmless, and everything else about them is irrelevant.

If Charles doesn’t understand why George keeps _them_ when he could have anyone else with but a word, that’s for him to wonder some other time. No matter how much he dislikes them, he does have duties to complete for the king. Letting his mind wander is useless. He has treaties to overlook, again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people are still free. Some days, that seems like a meagre consolation.

Achilles is worse today. He declines almost daily, but there is nothing to be done. They can’t afford to stop, to rest, to get treatment for him. He’s not Clipper’s priority, he can’t be, not when every single day is another day where Duncan, Jacob, Stephane, Dobby and Connor, oh god Connor, are under that maniac’s control. 

Each day is unaffordable, and yet they can’t do a thing to stop the passage of time. They tried everything they could think of, Lord knows they planned, they reached every contact they had (so few left), they fomented rebellion from the shadows they had to stay hidden in, they concocted strategies so diverse and insane one should have worked. They used up every free second they had, but there was just. not enough time. They keep moving, they have to, because if they stop they’ll be found, and they can’t be found. They’re Connor and the others’ last chance, and they know it. Jefferson won’t spare his very limited resources to attempt to rescue Clipper’s friends. 

It doesn’t help that luck doesn’t seem to favor them. No, that’s a euphemism. Their previous endeavors were abysmal failures and often resulted in more deaths than non-interference would have brought. Franklin, shot as soon as the guards protecting Washington saw him. Obviously, the king can detect when his manipulations are lifted from his victims’ mind. They had orders to kill him on sight. Connor’s village, burnt to the grounds, leaving no survivors. Kanen'tó:kon, captured and executed publicly the day following his imprisonment. All this, without even taking account of their original attempt, back when Washington was considered more a dangerous annoyance than the terror that he is today, back when the idea that the Assassins and the Templars working side by side couldn’t possibly be defeated by a mad man controlled by a device he couldn’t comprehend was perfectly reasonable. Both their ranks were decimated by that last stand. Most of the Asssassins are enslaved to the monster’s will, or they are dead. Clipper doesn’t know their current state. They have no ally at court. No one is foolish enough to get that close to the mad king with what he would consider bad intent. He does enjoy dealing fates worse than death. 

Clipper hates the facts that he spends most nights wishing that they’re dead. It’s so much easier to deal with, so much more… final, than letting his imagination run loose, bringing him vivid images of what exactly Connor or Dobby could be doing at the moment, leaving him drained and powerless. 

The thing is, he doesn’t _know_ how they are, and as long as the possibility that they still live exist, he must do everything in his power to save them, or, at the very least, free them, whether that means an extraction or a swift death.

Jamie just came back, Adams in tows. It’s probably hopeless, but they’ll try again. They have to. Washington has to be stopped. Somehow.


End file.
